


Unwell

by eveemma



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Arguing, Differing Opinions, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic, Squabbling, and also originally a oneshot that i split into parts because it got VERY long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5471834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveemma/pseuds/eveemma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suoh Mikoto didn't get sick, at least, not as far as he was concerned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling ill

     When Mikoto first woke up that day, he'd sworn he was just hung over. The aching in his head was surely owed to his previous night's indulgence. It had to be. The familiar feeling of his skull being two sizes too small for his brain and the foul taste in his mouth that followed a night of drinking was unmistakable. Though, he frowned as a bad feeling slowly crept down his throat, burning when he swallowed.

     It was the imported whiskey. That's what he got for trying something new. He had been wary of straying from his usual in the first place, but Izumo talked him into opening the bottle with him and this is where it landed him.

     All the bad signs aside, Mikoto was certain that he could just sleep it off if he rolled over and tried again. His fool-proof method for solving problems _rarely_ led him astray. Bent on his certainty, he gave it a try. With more effort than usual, he flopped onto his other side and closed his eyes. He lost track of where he was with the motion. The world went into a spin. For a moment, he thought he was going to vomit, but it passed, resting in his stomach as no more than a terrible feeling. The spinning ceased to be a thing and his body began to settle. Eventually he managed to beat the overall grossness enveloping him and slip back into a light slumber, but it was far from peaceful.

     He'd had a nightmare of burning while he slept. It wasn't anything new. Flames were rising from his stomach, up through his entire system, their entire path was marked with a charred feeling. They began as hot embers boiling the acids in his digestive system. They moved up him with a lick. His guts smoldered with quick breaths of hot pain. Mikoto was trapped for the longest time trying to fight the heat, tossing and turning, until finally the flames erupted from every orifice. His eyes shot open as he shot up in bed, panting and clawing at his own throat. His feverish sleep was over, but his body had succumbed to the blistering heat.

     His throat tickled and his body was covered in sweat, but he was stubborn. A hand was quickly clamped over his mouth as pressure drummed in his chest at his attempts to suppress the building fit of coughing. He refused to allow himself so much as a single cough for some time before the effort became too tiring and too painful.

     He coughed, and coughed some more, and then even more, head pounding on each heave of his lungs. As his coughing slowed, he lowered himself back into bed, world spinning once more.

     “ _Impossible_ ” he grumbled in a rasp, draping a hand over his own forehead to find it hotter than it normally was. Not only was he sick, but he was sick for the first time since childhood. He failed to so much as remember the last time he'd fallen ill, but he was certain it was at least ten years ago. Mikoto Suoh didn't get sick. He just didn't. Except for today. Today was an exception, much to his misfortune.

     Wallowing in bed didn't suit him, not when it came to a cold. Hell if he'd let anyone discover that something as simple as a cold incapacitated him. He fished for his phone to text Izumo that he needed someone to fetch cold medicine, finding it shoved on a messy bedside table. He made the hundredth mental note to himself to clean it up someday as he flipped the phone open. Izumo was the easiest person to ask for this sort of thing and the least likely to make a huge deal out of it. With the phone in his hand, he cleared his throat the best he could in preparation for the call, but luck was less on his side than he thought. His hopes were dashed, not because he'd forgotten to charge the phone (though he had forgotten and it was dead), but because he remembered upon pressing the home button that Izumo was out of the country for the week. That was why they had a drink the other night. A going away party of sorts was thrown for the bartender as a good luck ritual. Tatara was with Anna, unfortunately, and risking getting either of them sick was out of the question. He certainly wasn't going to have any of the kids in Homra pick medicine up for him, and waiting around to succumb to the cold further wasn't necessarily on his agenda, so his feet reluctantly met the floor.

     Today was a really shitty day.

     Mikoto had no choice but to get himself up and go to the convenience store. There was no one to pester into getting it for him aside from the blue king, and he'd rather die of the illness than text him to bring him medicine. So he was on his own.

     At first, the cold floor had felt good on his hot feet, but a chill was setting in on him. A chill was usually welcomed. The absence of incessant heat was often a relief. This however, was a chill that made him shiver and sniffle and want nothing more than to crawl back in bed like his aching head begged him to do.

     Handling one thing at a time was the only way to go in this situation.

     Mikoto slowly dressed in many layers, careful not to move too quickly. The layers did little to combat to chill, but they were comforting, so he settled into them. Normally even the thought of wearing a long sleeved shirt and a sweatshirt would be enough to earn a flash of heat, but for today it would do. Today sleeves were more of a blessing than a curse.

     With some struggle, Mikoto tried to figure out what to do next.

_Focus on the basics._

     His stomach was too unsettled to fathom eating, but he remembered hearing somewhere that fluids were good to indulge in when sick. Orange juice was his top choice, but the fridge had other plans.

     Mikoto's fridge light flickered on dully, illuminating his options. They could be listed on one hand. Expired milk, beer, and water from a filter he hadn't bothered to replace in months. Should he find himself hungry, his only option was leftover pizza. He stared incredulously down at his three fingers, scowling.

     Crappy water it was.

     The effort required to fetch a glass, fill it, and swallow was miserable, and he considered at that point doing nothing about the sickness and waiting it out from the comfort of his bed, but if that fever dream held any semblance of a warning, he figured he should at least bring his temperature down.

     He didn't have a thermometer, _who needed one anyway?_ His hand was a good enough gauge. Besides that, the only type of people who needed a fancy number stick to tell them if they felt bad or not were by the book people like Munakata. Mikoto scrunched his face and gave a gruff cough. _Like he needed all that fussing._

     Once his human needs were taken care of, he sought the comfort of his coat before locking his door behind himself and descending three flights of rickety old stairs to the apartment building's foyer. Despite today's seemingly endless bad luck, not everything was lost. Mikoto found some fortune hanging on the back of his chair as he left that he was now wrapping around his face and neck in a scarf left behind by Izumo. When it was left behind was a question Mikoto had not a care nor an answer for. He was just glad that it was. There was not a single scarf in his own closet to speak of. 

     The air outside the protection of his apartment was blisteringly cold. Any other day, winter weather was a welcomed and embraced, but today, it just added to the misery. Today's cold was unlike a typical dry cold. Thick heavy clouds hung over head and the air was heavy with an impending dampness that had Mikoto staring blankly with the hope that if nothing else went his way today, he'd at least like for it not to snow. The damp cold sunk into his joints in a trickling manner, like rain slowly working it's way down a window pane. 

     Thankfully, the corner store was less than a few block's walk down the street. The gentle jingling of the bell on the door was a warming sound. Even on Mikoto's congested ears, it was a pleasant welcome. 

     All he needed to do was buy the medicine, go home, take it, and go back to bed. 

     Simple. 

     Nothing complicated or tiring, just a basic task and then he could sleep off the day. 

     Half in a feverish daze, Mikoto made a start for the isle he knew the cold and flu relief would be found in. He didn't notice, but the store owner gave a wave with a kind acknowledgement of his presence. His mind was set on one thing. Quickly grab the medicine and go. 

_      Oh fuck me,  _ was the first thought to cross his mind as he stared at the empty shelf. 

     There was nothing there. 

     Not even the cold compresses for swollen joints. 

     The whole shelf was cleared off. 

_      You've gotta be kidding.  _

     “Oh no, Suoh-san”

     He took vague notice now of the shop owner who was leaning over the counter to try and get a look at what he was searching for. 

     “Hn” Was his noncommittal response. He heard the older woman, but his hazy mind struggled to grasp what the proper response should be. Regardless of his state, a hum or a grunt would have likely been his response anyway. 

     “I'm sorry, but today we've packed up most of our wares.” 

     He turned glassy eyes onto the woman who knew his name. He couldn't even take a guess at hers, but somehow she knew his. When he had the cash, he frequently bought his dinner from the pre-made meals they sold, so it wasn't surprising. 

     “We're remodeling this evening” 

     He continued to stare, sniffling his nose a bit. 

     “Are you sick?” 

     He gave his nose a mighty snuff, coughed into the borrowed scarf, and shook his head as much as the congestion would allow. 

     “Nah, just a cold.” his voice wasn't quite raw yet, but just as the congestion had sloshed around in his head, the phlegmy grit had already made its way to his vocals. 

     “Oh...” It was clear that the woman could tell he was just playing it tough, her eyes gave him that pitying look he explicitly hoped to avoid, and she continued “Well, If you're looking for someone selling cold relief, The store ten minutes down the street should have it.” 

     Mikoto nodded and made his way out of the store before he got too angry. He forgot to thank the cashier for her advice, but she was almost always behind the register. He'd thank her some other time. 

     What was usually a ten minute walk was taking much longer. Five minutes in, Mikoto's legs felt like lead weights, and his head not only ached, but a certain fluttering alerted him that he needed to get some place to sit down fast. He lacked the energy to muster much of an emotion about all of these rotten outcomes, but he figured if he wasn't feeling so ill first and foremost, he'd feel annoyed. There was an underlying desire to kick something that told him that he was indeed correct in his presumed self. 

     This convenience store was one Mikoto tended to avoid. The prices were high, the people who lived in the area had a lot of money, and he just didn't like it. The atmosphere was snooty and people gave him looks when he walked in. It didn't particularly upset him, but it was definitely better to avoid getting irritated if he could. It resulted in less property damage for the whole city. 

     As he walked through the door, he was hit with a wave of dizziness that made him wobble a bit, but he didn't stop shuffling forwards. He reminded himself of the goal. Grab it, Buy it, Book it. Get the hell home. Go back to bed. 

     There was no familiar jingling bell on the door. In contrast to the convenience store near his apartment, this was was incredibly organized and everything was laid out in a manner that was supposed to be aesthetically pleasing. Equal spacing, beautiful colorful ads that were regularly replaced. His go-to had none of these things. In all honesty, places like this made him feel unwelcome and uncomfortable. He was reminded again to thank the shop owner that he'd forgotten to thank if nothing else but for the simple fact that the old faded posters and haphazard arrangement of the shelves felt like home. 

     For now, he was stuck in an upper middle class iteration of a pleasant and trendy shopping experience. At least everything was labeled. It made finding the medicine isle easier. 

     Now, completely in a daze, Mikoto ambled over to the shelves that had what he was looking for and grabbed the brand that looked like it would pack the strongest punch. He didn't care what the cost was, he just wanted to kick the “cold”. 

     He was so focused on the completion of his task and going home that he didn't realize a familiar face was standing nearby, nor did he notice that same face towering over him while he squatted down to hold and read the back of a box. 

     Why put so many tiny kanji on the back of a box that someone would read when they felt like death? It made no sense. He didn't notice that he was letting out a quiet groan of frustration until the figure towering over him cleared their throat. 

     Feeling a shift in his reading light, Mikoto turned his head up slowly to meet the eyes of the blue king. Scratch that- He looked up to gaze up the nostrils of the blue king because the asshole didn't have the human decency to actually turn his head when he was looking at someone, but rather stared down his nose at them like they were beneath him. 

     “What're you doing down there, Suoh.” The blue king didn't quite  _ ask  _ the question. It was more of a statement, and it gave Mikoto the feeling that he was in the way. It didn't sit right with him. Being that he was sick, in the medicine isle, reading the back of a cold reliever box, he garnered that he was not in the way and suddenly had the ability to feel something other than miserably ill. 

     “What's it look like I'm doing, Munakata?” He replied, making sure to drip his tone in his irritation. 

     “Could it be that your dirty habit of not washing your hands has finally led to you falling ill?” The bastard had the audacity to adjust his glasses without adjusting his attitude. The expression the blue king wore was cold and cruel. 

     Mikoto stood up. 

     “Would you cry if I grabbed your face with my  _ dirty hands _ ?” He challenged, voice cracking most unthreateningly. He washed his hands. Sometimes. When it was convenient. He took note of the fact that Munakata was not in his work uniform. At least not that long blue jacket. He must have just gotten done for the evening though, because he was still wearing that painfully stuffy cravat, the tight vest, and all the other needless layers of clothes he was so intent on piling on himself all the time. Even in the summer. His attire alone was irritating. Everything about him was irritating. Especially right now. All those layers looked superficial. Like they were armor of some sort, pushing Munakata's heart and emotions further and further away, making him untouchable. It was a mask. It was all a mask and Mikoto wanted to challenge it and tear it down. 

     In his irritated distraction, Mikoto failed to realize that he'd crushed the box of cold medicine in his hand, essentially making his purchase decision. 

     “No, I would think not, however you might get your germs on me, and I haven't got the time to be sick.” 

     “Then why're you bugging me.” Mikoto grumbled, resigning to his purchase. 

     Munakata unsurprisingly did not answer Mikoto's question, and instead changed the subject as he often did, “Please tell me you didn't walk here from your apartment in your condition.” 

     “And if I did?” He really didn't have the patience or energy to spare on this. 

     “You would be a reckless fool.” 

     Mikoto merely stared. 

     “Well Munakata,” He fixed a crooked smirk onto his face, the one he knew dug under Munakata's skin. “This reckless fool's headed to check out and take the walk home.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and made for the register, pushing past Munakata. But a few steps into his march, he sneezed so hard he had to grab the shelf for balance. 

     “You are absolutely not  _ walking home _ in that condition.” Munakata demanded with his hand firmly on Mikoto's shoulder. “Give that to me.” 

     Mikoto looked at him with unfocused eyes, swimming in his head for a moment before realizing that he was supposed to fight back. 

     “mmnm” he retorted, shaking Munakata off so he could cough into his scarf while holding onto the shelf. It was childish, but it was all he could do. He couldn't produce a flame if he tried, fighting Munakata on it was out of the question. 

     “I'm going to go buy it and take you home. I live closer.” 

     “No.” Mikoto wasn't going. He had his plan. He was buying the medicine and going home. Whether he wobbled on his feet the whole way back or not, there was no way he was going to let the blue king hold this over him forever. 

     Or so he thought. 

     Munakata took the medicine out of his fist whether he wanted to give it up or not and gave Mikoto a tug that pulled him completely off balance and forced him to lean on the blue king to move forwards. 

     “Don't be such a stubborn mule.” Munakata insisted with another tug. “You'll make a scene.” 

     “I'm the one making a scene?” Mikoto grumbled in retort and raised a brow after being pulled once more towards the register. It wasn't like Munakata needed to tug him. He was already headed to the register, but Munakata was always so extra. Of course he was going to make a show of it and point a finger down at Mikoto and call him childish or barbaric. That's how things always went. 

     “Yes, You are.” If Munakata's arms weren't already occupied with the pushing and shoving and tugging, Mikoto was sure he'd have crossed them to solidify his own very childish stance on matters. 

     Stubbornness aside, Mikoto found himself glad deep down that he had someone he could lean on at the register. Munakata was handling everything well, with a pleasant smile for the young looking woman working behind the counter. They were speaking so politely, it all just jumbled in Mikoto's head in a manner that was impossible to focus on while he attempted to be conscious of the other people around him with each fit of coughing that came with the plague. Somewhere along the line, Mikoto had reached for his wallet and Reisi had swatted his hand away, so he just shrugged and stopped fighting to pay attention to what was going on. It wasn't important as far as he was concerned. 

     He zoned out so intensely that for a moment, he nearly dozed off on the Blue King's shoulder. If not for the sudden arm around his waist and turning motion applied, he'd probably have fallen asleep standing up. Instead he was hit with an unpleasant churn in his stomach and responded with a surprised cough.

     “Let's go” 

     He didn't have to be told twice. Not mentally or emotionally at least. He wasn't aware that the transaction had finished, but Munakata had a bag and was urging him forward, so he shifted his heavy limbs to walk, albeit slowly. With the returning nausea, it was hard to move quickly. 

     “Sorry, just a little tired.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes for effect. “Otherwise... I'd be fighting you on this.”

     “Oh, I know.” 

     Mikoto could generate nothing of value to respond with, so he merely grunted to show his disapproval of Munakata's high and mighty 'I know all' spiel. 

     Any other day, he really would be fighting this. It was just a cold. He didn't need an arm around his waist, he didn't need someone to buy his medicine for him, and he definitely didn't need the help of Munakata Reisi when it came to something like this.

     Except that he was feeling increasingly worse by the minute and he kind of needed Munakata at the moment. 

     Exhausted and dazed, he let Munakata walk him back to his place without another word. He asked to stop once so he could catch his breath, belabored by rasps and coughs, but other than that he chose not to speak and glared when the blue king looked as though he might comment on his health. 

     Munakata's eyes shifted back to Mikoto a couple of times, but they were unreadable. His expression was some sort of masked concern that was too much to comprehend in Mikoto's current state. Why did he look so concerned? -Didn't matter. Why was he taking time out of his busy life to help? -Didn't matter. Why bother with a contagious 'barbarian'? Didn't matter, didn't care. 

     Unbeknownst to Mikoto, he'd curled his fingers around the fabric of Reisi's coat and gripped tighter the more he was aware that he was going to be sick. The feeling he'd swallowed that morning was burning him now. His mouth was filling with saliva that he tried again and again to swallow while something acidic sloshed around in him. 

     They climbed the stairs to Reisi's apartment and one by one, Mikoto counted them as a means to focus on anything else. Anything he could do to swallow the feeling, he would do. He closed his eyes, exhaled slowly with each step, let Munakata lead him up each stair, anything to fight the tightening of his insides as they refused to let him keep the contents of his stomach down. 

     The Blue king's muttering as he searched his pockets for his keys went unnoticed. The jingle of the metal when they were located was unheard. He was so preoccupied with mentally blocking himself from puking that he didn't realize that he'd finished with the stairs and stepped into the entry room of Munakata's apartment. Normally, he'd have habitually bent down to remove his shoes. Labeled a barbarian or not, certain customs were not wasted on him, however, today was a far cry from normal. As he came to be aware of where he was a very quick choice was made. 

     He bolted right for the sink. 

     It was closest. 

     Empty or filled with dishes made no difference. 

     He couldn't put it off any longer.

     Mikoto bent over the sink with his shoes still on and a scarf still wrapped around his neck and let out a loud gag. Everything was spinning. Following the gag, the meager contents of his stomach spilled from his mouth to the sink with a foul splatter. Mucous and whiskey mixed with bile in the most offensive manner of burning, ripped raw his already sore throat. 

_      Why,  _ He thought as he gasped for a breath before vomitting again,  _ Why this. _

     Mikoto wasn't quite sure what he'd ever done to deserve the following barrage of puking and gasping and heaving mixed with coughing, but he swore if he found out what it was he'd never do it again. 

     Water ran from the faucet beside his face before he realized who had turned it on. It splashed around the vomit and for a moment, made the smell so wretched that Mikoto's body heaved despite it's emptiness, then it washed it away. It was gone. It was all squirted down the drain. No more smell, no more vomit, it all went elsewhere. A warm cloth wiped his mouth and cheeks clean, then a cool one was wiped across his sweaty forehead.

     A cold glass pressed against his lips, but Mikoto was still panting, he couldn't drink from it and it was taken away. It took a great effort, but Mikoto raised his gaze to meet Munakata's eyes. Whatever he was expecting, it certainly wasn't the unguarded look of complete concern being cast his way. 

     “Shit” He hissed under his breath.  _ Shit _ . 

     There was no mistaking that worry. He lowered his forehead to the cold metal of the sink. His whole body sunk, trembling, to his knees. 

     “I'll be fine.” He lied, “Get back to your duties.” The last thing he wanted to hear at the moment was that he was being inconvenient, or that he would put the blue king behind. He told himself it was a matter of not wanting to deal with Munakata's attitude, but in reality, it was a retaliation to the fear growing inside him that Munakata cared about him as something more than a rival. That he would be valued as a close person, and that he would never be able to live up to an idealistic man's standards. Complicated thoughts like that were harder to think about- It was easier to let surface level irritation win. 

     “I cannot. I refuse to leave you like this.” 

_      Of course _ , Mikoto inwardly groaned, Munakata's ideals wouldn't allow him to just let Mikoto be. For such an observant man, Mikoto figured Reisi to be incredibly blind. The last thing Mikoto wanted was for someone to see him like this. 

     “I said I'll be-- ugh.” shaking fingers tightened around the sink as he felt a seconds wave of nausea coming along with the mix of nerves and anxiety, “...fine.” He swallowed. 

     “Ah. Would you look at that.” A phone was shoved in Mikoto's face. Munakata's deft fingers quickly entered a passcode, effectively wiping his once very busy and structured schedule clean. “I've got zero obligations this evening.” 

     “Liar.” 

     “Suoh. Let me help you.” 

     Mikoto didn't have it in him to fight. His shoulders sank. 

     “Alright.” 

     Munakata put his phone down now that he had expressed permission and braced Mikoto with both arms to heave the trembling man from the ground. He was slow and careful, and surprisingly gentle. Nothing was sharp about his attitude, nothing was hidden, everything about his intentions were carried through with his actions in a way that couldn't be disguised. 

     The blue king was genuinely taking care of the red. 

     “I'm going to pick you up” 

     Even with warning, Mikoto tensed slightly at being lifted. The motion didn't hold good memories for him and he felt raw and open as it was. Being removed from the ground by anyone made him uncomfortable. His fight instinct kicked in despite his condition, but Munakata was firm on his position and held Mikoto tightly in a supportive way. He had him beneath the knees and around the back with his head tucked to Munakata's shoulder protectively. Like that, it was hard to derive anything other than comfort from the action despite his initial instinct. His embrace was warm and whole from someone who looked physically smaller. No sign of struggle was present from the blue king, so Mikoto allowed himself to relax. He settled in to being held like that, though it was short lived. Before he knew it, he was being set down and propped up on a couch. The sudden absence of warmth was jarring and he frowned. Munakata seemed unaware of the reason for his frown and folded his arms with a pensive look about himself. His thoughts were unspoken and thus unknown to Mikoto.

     “Do you feel like you can drink a glass of water?” 

     “..... no” Mikoto's voice was blowing out. It had no power. It was just a whisper. 

     “I'll get one regardless. I want you to try. You'll feel better.” 

     Mikoto wasn't sure how a glass of water was going to make him feel better. It hadn't worked that morning and he doubted it would now, but vomiting led to dehydration, so he figured Munkata was concerned about that. A fresh glass of water that hadn't touched his lips when they had remnants of puke on them was brought his way Alongside a mug of what Mikoto assumed was some remedy Munakata favored. It would be like him to insist that whatever method he used to kick a cold was best, so there was no surprise. 

     “What's in the mug?” 

     “Shogayu” 

     Mikoto squinted at it. He'd never personally tried it, but he was sure Izumo had made it for Tatara and other members of Homra at some point. He knew it was a popular remedy for feeling unwell. 

     “Ah.” He was amazed that his blunt response didn't garner a lengthy explanation in which Munakata talked down on him for asking a question like that, but wasn't going to push his luck by trying to goad him about it's absence. 

     “I'll have that then.” 

     Eager to try to get the awful taste out of his mouth, he decided to go for it over the water. Munakata lifted it and helped him hold it, reminding Mikoto of just how weak his hands were at the moment, and helped him drink it slowly. Ginger hit his palette in a welcome explosion of warmth and clarity as his sinuses cleared for a moment. The warmth of the contents of the mug spread through him as he sipped, combatting the shivers and the chills. The taste was an incredible improvement from the one that previously occupied his mouth. His stomach wasn't entirely welcoming, but the ginger would help to calm it. Even Mikoto knew that much. 

     “If you can keep that down, I'll make you something easy to eat and you can take some medicine, but I refuse to allow you to call this a cold any longer. You have definitely got the flu, Mikoto.” 

     The use of his first name surprised him, He stopped drinking and breathed against the thick liquid. 

     “Seriously?” The mug between his lips made his speech hard to understand. The effort to move wasn't worth it though. 

     “What?” Munakata didn't appear to understand. 

     “Mmmn” He backed away from the mug so he could speak without obstruction, “You want me to use your first name while you play nurse?”

     “I'm not playing nurse with you. I'm taking care of a friend.” 

     The word friend was always a shocking thing to hear come from Munkata. It's use stole his voice momentarily, then he smiled weakly. Other people rarely referred to him as a friend.

     “Well then Reisi,” He turned his gaze away, “I'm glad.” 

     Even more shocking, Reisi didn't have a snide remark. Reisi didn't tease him. The name Reisi slipped right over his mental use of his last name like he'd been using it for years. Given the right circumstance, Mikoto and Reisi were best friends as well as rivals after-all. Sometimes they edged on being something else, something more intimate, but one always backed away first. Someone always posed a sharp comment, or a loaded remark, someone laid bait to continue their ongoing war of challenging the other. It was an endless dance, circling in motion, hovering nearer to their hearts each and every time before someone pulled away so fast neither could really track when they had gone from friends to enemies. Where they ever even enemies? No, not really. Enemies of themselves was a better way to describe it. Mikoto presently lacked the energy to play the game of mental chicken with their relationship. He was along for the ride, and it didn't look like Reisi was going to jump any time soon. A quiet warning sounded in the back of Mikoto's head,  _ If you let him be too nice to you, you'll never be able to go back to the way things were,  _ but his stubbornness burned the warning up in a feverish blaze leaving no blood, no bone and no ash to indicate it's existence. 

     Whatever came of allowing Reisi to 'Care for a Friend' would be whatever Mikoto went on to live with. He had no choice. He was stuck on the man's couch until he was well enough to go home.

     “Why didn't you have someone else get the medicine for you in the first place?” 

     Reisi's question pulled Mikoto from his thoughts, 

     “Huh?” His throat hurt, he'd rather sleep than talk, but Reisi was always chatty like this, it was nothing new. 

     “Why didn't one of your friends get your medicine for you?” He repeated himself in a more concise manner.

     “Oh... Dunno. Didn't want to get them sick, Izumo's outta town. Tatara's watching Anna ...Busy” 

     “I see... but I was in town, I could have gotten it.”  
“Didn't want to disturb your 'Kingly Duties'.... or get chewed out for spreading my Barbaric Plague” Mikoto heard Reisi set the glass and mug down on a small table alongside a hesitant chuckle. 

     “Stubborn.” Reisi accused, shifting Mikoto around on the couch to wedge himself behind him. Mikoto groaned at being moved around after he'd already settled into the couch, but as Reisi wrapped a blanket over him and let him settle back against himself, he sighed in a sort of relief he didn't know he wanted to express. Reisi, who always seemed so cold, was a surprisingly wonderful source of body heat and his hands. His hands were on his head now, rubbing circles where it ached without any explanations or guidance. He utilized both of his hands to their fullest to apply varying degrees of pressure and occasionally worked on his neck or tender spots along his sinuses. Mikoto got lost in those hands. His eyes fell shut as some semblance of relief coursed through him. He still felt like shit, but the pervasive sick fog and splitting headache relented a bit. 

     “You're really quite sick...” Reisi commented, probably realizing just how hot Mikoto's forehead was. 

     “Nnnn” Mikoto didn't want to respond. He just wanted to sink into the wonderful feeling of Reisi's hands and what they were doing with the pain in his skull.

     “You're gonna get sick if y'aren't careful” He warned in a slow, drawn out rasp of a hum. 

     “If that happens I expect you to do your duty and ensure I recover as well.” 

     “Izzat a gamble you really wanna take?” He grinned as much as he could. 

     “My cards are all on the table.” He continued massaging Mikoto's head, combing his fingers through unstyled hair, “I will see you through to being well.” 

     “........thank you” Mikoto's whole body breathed a sigh of relief when he stopped trying to play it strong. He coughed gently, then completely settled against Reisi with closed eyes. 

     “Can't believe... you're letting me... drift off... no fussing... how unlike you...” His eyelids were too heavy to open at the present. 

     “I'll fuss with you when you wake up, for now you can rest.” Reisi eased the pressure out of his contact with Mikoto's skull, simply running his fingers along his scalp now instead. “Rest would do you good.” For once, he wasn't in opposition to taking a break. Perhaps even Reisi had the ability to determine when it was appropriate to slow down. Mikoto would have doubted it if he wasn't uncontrollably falling asleep, offering nothing but sleepy hums to whatever else Reisi went on about as his touches grew gentler. 

     Mikoto was vaguely aware that Reisi continued to talk to him, but he wasn't sure what was being said anymore. The tone of voice was pleasant, like a cool breeze on a warm day. Occasional trills of laughter broke the flow of Reisi's speech. Something must have been funny, but he had no idea what. The repetitive stroke against his skull created a sort of foggy fevered trance. He was smiling. Mikoto was faintly aware that the corner of his lips were tugging upwards in a display of thankful comfort whether he wanted to give Reisi the satisfaction or not. He made short sleepy noises in reply until he was too far under the blanket of rest to hear. His final thought before falling totally unconscious was his sleepy responses were probably the thing Reisi was laughing at, and then, that he was glad he was falling asleep in a comfort like this. 

 

 


	2. Duties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surely, Reisi must have had something better to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a good holiday! I decided to update this tonight, but I might regret that when I reread it in the morning for errors lol.

The sleep that followed was dreamless.  
  
Mikoto was at peace.  
  
There was no horror of burning, no fear of waking alight with flames rampaging in the wake of his body's weakness. There was only sleep.  
  
He really would have rathered it stay that way.  
  
Being cared for certainly had it's advantages, advantages that Mikoto had never really experienced until that point. Sure, people in Homra cared about him, but a couple grunts and dissatisfied frowns turned them away when he wanted to be left alone. Dealing with things alone was how he'd always done it, he grew up doing everything on his own and he didn't stop into his adulthood.  
  
Reisi, however, was relentless, and that lent itself to Mikoto's fortune and.... misfortune.  
  
He didn't wake to being moved when Reisi got up, he was still too far under for that. He didn't wake to a thermometer being placed in his mouth. He didn't wake to the frantic pacing of a man too used to being in control of every situation unable to provide an instant fix for this one. He didn't know that the temperature the fancy sick stick displayed was what had frayed Reisi's nerves. He also didn't recall the period of time in which Reisi kept trying to wake him to get him to agree to seeing a doctor.  
Mikoto's eyes only fluttered open when Reisi was sitting beside him, shaking his shoulders and patting his cheek. He met Reisi's worried stare with a hazy expression and a humongous yawn. A few coughs rattled his chest, but not before he acknowledged that something was hiding in those worried eyes yet again.  
  
“S'matter with you?” He mumbled, “Stop shaking me”  
  
“You need to wake up” Reisi adjusted his glasses, the glare hid his eyes.  
  
“Why?” Mikoto turned over so he didn't have to face the fact that he acknowledged Reisi was still genuinely worried. However grateful he was for Reisi's care and help thus far, Mikoto's stubbornness wasn't buried under gratitude. It seemed impervious to it for the most part.  
  
He wished silently that he got to see the look on Reisi's face. He didn't have to guess to know that there was probably some annoyed bewilderment spread all over it at Mikoto's defiance. He knew Reisi was used to being agreed with and followed without question. It was always sort of fun to defy him just to dig under his skin. This time though, this time Mikoto honestly just wanted to be left alone so he could keep sleeping.  
  
“You have to wake up so you can eat, take some medicine, and then we'll talk more about seeing a doctor.”  
  
“Pffffff” Mikoto didn't feel as though Reisi had earned more of a response than that. His predictability was mildly irritating. On top of that, he was not going to see a doctor.  
  
“Mikoto, Don't act so childishly.”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Stop that.”  
  
“Stop what?” He grumbled, curling more against the back of the couch.  
  
“It's always your way isn't it?” Reisi retorted. “I'm only trying to help.”  
  
“I didn't really ask for your help.” Mikoto's grumble was becoming unintelligible. “Seems more like your way this time, Reisi.”  
  
“And you've already thanked me for it.” He reminded Mikoto, rubbing his temples. “I...”  
  
“You're worried about me.” If Reisi wasn't going to come out and say it, Mikoto had no issue being the blunt one.  
  
“That--- that is----” Reisi's stammering confirmed it, “You're insufferable.”  
  
“But you're still worried about me”  
  
“Yes.” Reisi's following sigh was the most exasperated thing Mikoto had ever heard come from Reisi's mouth. Mikoto turned his head and peaked through a half closed eye to try to read what was going through Reisi's mind, but he found he couldn't. The man appeared to be struggling, and Mikoto couldn't quite guess at what.  
  
“You shouldn't be.”  
  
“If I could stop I would. It would save me quite a few headaches. You probably brought this sickness on yourself. I don't know why I care so much for someone who acts as rashly and selfishly as you do.” Reisi seemed to be venting some inner frustration.  
  
Mikoto's only response was a loud, snotty snuff of his nose.  
  
Silence befell them, then Mikoto rolled back over and put his face in Reisi's lap, though he wasn't sure why. Questioning it was too bothersome.Reisi was sighing again. Mikoto braced himself for a continuation of the tirade, but it didn't come. Instead, his hair was being stroked again. He wasn't prepared for a gentle reaction. He didn't have time to convince himself to keep up his stubborn front.  
  
“Head petting is my weakness.” Embarrassment bubbled up unmistakably in his annoyed growl of a tone. “You're exploiting a sick man's weaknesses.”  
  
“Good, maybe you'll listen to me.”  
  
Mikoto frowned at Reisi with his best forced expression, complete with a disbelieving scowl.  
“You're lucky I'm too sick to really fight you on this.” Reisi owed him for this. Reisi owed him for being spared the embarrassment of being called out on his overly touching care and concern. Mikoto was too sick to really dig at what Reisi was running away from admitting, but just the surface level of understanding that Reisi was running away from something by not voicing his whole feelings on matters was enough.  
  
“You should try speaking your damn mind. Maybe I'd listen better.” He mumbled against Reisi's thigh as the man stiffened, a nerve struck. Mikoto could feel the scowl, but it was a short lived look. “Your own mind. Not that kingly bullshit.”  
  
Reisi sighed another of many sighs.  
  
“Perhaps you've got a point.” The silence that fell following Reisi's response raised hairs on the back of Mikoto's neck. This was the sort of silence Mikoto feared. The silence that wasn't empty, but was entirely too full. It was full of thought and unspoken feelings.  
He coughed to disrupt it, and then he kept coughing when he couldn't control the wracking of his chest. Unable to reign his composure in, he smothered his coughing against Reisi's leg.  
  
“You infuriate me. You turn my hair grey. Our arguments are literally and figuratively explosive. You take my time away from my work and distract me and cause me to go through so much paperwork” He paused, hand no longer pulling through Mikoto's hair “For all of the frustration you bring me, I care about you.” Reisi's hand was on Mikoto's back now, rubbing in an attempt to soothe his coughing. “I hesitate to divulge the extent.”  
  
“Fancy words... You're hiding behind frilly speech.” Mikoto accused between tiny coughs.  
  
“Perhaps you've made a record breaking second point.” Reisi chided, “Of course, I'm teasing. You're quite the life coach when you're ill.”  
  
“Nah. Just don't have patience for your half assed shit.” Mikoto's coughing slowed as he settled again, closing his eyes. “I'll eat. I'll take some medicine. Whatever. 'Guess I should go see a doctor too. Since it's the flu and all.”  
He didn't need to look up to know Reisi's expression had some element of victory in it.  
  
  
“If I go, you have to come.”  
  
“Naturally, It would be foolish to leave you alone in your condition.”  
  
“What're you going to do when you need to go to the office?” Mikoto tested.  
  
“Your health is my first priority.” Reisi impressed him, despite his tone being tinted with hesitation, he seemed resolute.  
  
“Huh.” Mikoto breathed, absentmindedly rubbing Reisi's leg. If he wasn't so ill, the action might've been suggestive, but with how he felt, it was literally all he could do to give Reisi a little reassurance that he appreciated it.  
Topping Reisi's duties as king was not only a first, but something of a miracle.  
  
“Do you really think I'm that sick?” He teased around the sound of gravel in his throat.  
  
“Don't make me take it back.”  
  
Mikoto chuckled. “Forgive me, your highness.”  
  
Reisi's leg was flicked in a playful way, Mikoto marveled at the fact that he had yet to be pushed off or called out for being inappropriate. His pleasant headrest didn't last forever though. It was a temporary fixture.  
  
“I made you soup.” With the clearing of his throat, Reisi indicated that the subject was changing whether Mikoto wanted to harp on him or not. Along with the announcement of a potential meal, Mikoto lost his comfortable lap to lay on. A slender hand cupped Mikoto's cheek as the leg slid out from underneath him and was replaced gently with a pillow. Mikoto watched as Reisi padded off to the kitchen with bare feet against hardwood flooring. There was no sticky tack in the solid sound of each foot making contact with the wood and lifting again. Reisi's feet must've been cold. Hazily, Mikoto mumbled to himself about not needing to be served, but dragging his body back to a sitting position was difficult enough to convince him to resign to mumbling. Staying seated was best.  
  
“You think I could borrow a change of clothes too?” an attempt to raise his voice was futile. A raspy wheeze of a whisper was his maximum volume.  
  
“Before we leave for the doctor, yes.” By some miracle, Reisi had heard his sickly whisper and replied. The bowl of soup Reisi carried back with him had fogged the man's glasses and earned half a smirk from Mikoto. The soup was accompanied by the cold medicine that was purchased earlier that day. A glance to the clock on Reisi's wall told Mikoto he'd slept for more than a few hours. It was early the next morning and yet, Reisi was still awake, still looking after him, and putting a tray of home made food on his lap.  
  
“Did you get any sleep?” Mikoto asked, accepting the tray.  
  
“A few hours, don't worry.” There was something smug about the way Reisi said it that dug under Mikoto's skin.  
  
“Wasn't saying I was worried.” He grumbled, voice like gravel. Reisi appeared to be holding the eating utensils hostage as well.  
  
“It's what you had implicated that mattered.” Reisi hummed, removing his glasses to wipe them on his shirt. While the man was blind, Mikoto took it upon himself to swipe the spoon and have a go at eating. He was nervous at first that it would unsettle his stomach again, but the first spoon proved his nerves unwarranted. To Mikoto's complete surprise, Reisi was an incredible chef, either that or Mikoto was just so hungry that anything would taste good, but the notes of flavor could not be dismissed. Despite having next to no conceivable time to practice the craft, Reisi was skilled in the kitchen.  
  
“I made the stock earlier this week, I hadn't had much time to make anything elaborate with it, so I'm glad I could make this instead.”  
Mikoto didn't respond. He was too focused on eating. The heat of the soup filled his body with a warmth that was reminiscent of the way the fire inside him was sometimes comforting and gentle, keeping him warm on cold nights. The wamrth traveled up his sinuses and melted the solid rock of mucous that had blocked up his entire head, making his nose run while he ate, but he didn't stop. He ate the whole bowl. Mushrooms, Ginger, Carrots, all of the other assorted vegetables Reisi had boiled in the soup, it was all wonderful. He felt a little spoiled, and at the same time, he wanted more.  
  
“I'm glad you liked it so much.”  
  
“Is there more?”  
  
Reisi chuckled, perhaps in place of calling him a name for his manners, and took the bowl. “Yes, absolutely.”  
  
“Then you eat too.” Mikoto wasn't going to let his own health come at the expense of Reisi's. One, He'd never hear the end of it, and Two, this wasn't the type of “pain in the ass” he wanted to be to Reisi. Getting stuck on his couch was a lot less fun than purposefully getting in his way.  
  
“Fair enough, I'll split what's left with you.”  
They ate together in silence, neither king seeming to want to talk too much over their meal. There wasn't much conversation between the occasional smirk and “what” being thrown the other's way. Reisi finished first and waited to take the tray away. He disappeared into the kitchen, then further from the line of sight. Mikoto could hear him rummaging through something, drawers maybe, and was presented with a comfortable looking change of clothes.  
  
“You own sweatpants?” Mikoto challenged, quirking his brow to elevate his tone where his voice was failing him.  
  
“Of course, everyone has a few leisure items.”  
  
“Thought you were more traditional than that” he smirked.  
  
“I am! They're just- Do you want to wear them or not?”  
  
“Give em'” Mikoto was trying his best to continue smirking and not let his smile go from ear to ear. A pair of sweatpants, a long sleeved t shirt, thick socks, and a warm hooded sweatshirt was dumped over his head, earning a chuckle of his own.  
  
“You sure I'm the childish one?”  
  
“Positive” Reisi huffed, folding his arms. “Hurry up.” He turned on his heel to give Mikoto privacy.  
  
“What, don't you want to watch?”  
  
  
“Absolutely not.”  
  
“Why not?” Mikoto hummed to the best of his ability.  
  
“What pleasure would I derive from watching you strip from your day old clothes and change them out for mine?”  
  
“Aw, Don't be like that.” He teased, throwing his old shirt off.  
  
“You suddenly sound less sick, How about I kick you out of my house.”  
  
“You're no fun.” Mikoto slipped his pants down to his ankles and pulled them off. He chose to throw them at Reisi. Why? For fun, of course. The pants just so happened to  
collide with his face, as he had turned back around that very moment to dump a lecture on Mikoto. Reisi was stunned was silenced, and the pants fell to the floor, a flustered sort of expression washing over the blue king.  
Mikoto laughed. It made him cough. But he laughed. Hard.  
  
“What's so funny! This isn't funny Mikoto!”  
  
“What's got your pants in a knot, Munakata?” He drew out each syllable of the name, smirking harder with each one.  
  
“You---” Reisi didn't finish his sentence, instead he lurched for the couch and grabbed the pillow from behind Mikoto to smack him with it. Mikoto pushed back, grabbing a pillow to defend himself. They weren't evenly matched like they were in their fights on the street. Reisi had the high ground and Mikoto had the flu. After a few whacks back and forth, Reisi had dominated. He sat on top of a pillow wedged between himself and Mikoto and fixed his hair and glasses. “Impossible” He finished his previous thought,  
  
“You are impossible.” He panted, breathless from the exchange.  
Mikoto could only chuckle again in this instance, coughing between breaths. “You think I could finish getting dressed?” What was truly impossibly about it all was that Reisi had lost his composure and resorted to a pillow attack. Something about the impossibility was elating.  
  
“No.”  
  
“What? I'm gonna freeze.”  
  
“Freeze then, I don't care.” Reisi was a sore winner, it seemed. Winning must've come too easy. A surprise rematch was planned for the healthier future.  
  
“you're weighing on my chest.”  
  
“Good.”  
Mikoto made a move to push Reisi off, but he hopped off with grace on his own.  
  
“Just get dressed.” He folded his arms and made off for the kitchen again. The water ran. He must've gone to do dishes.  
  
“Yes sir” A dish in the other room was scrubbed extra hard for Mikoto's emphasis on the word sir.  
Mikoto decided to slip into the clothes provided for him and frowned. The clothes smelled so much like the air after a fight with Reisi. They smelled of him, and of his detergent, and maybe a bit too strong of a whiff of him. Like he'd owned the clothes for years and years and never replaced them. It was the first time Mikoto had seen something like this in Reisi's possession. It was so human, so openly telling of his humanity, that it was unlike him. It was more like the side of Reisi Mikoto knew existed, and always tried to coax out. He scowled. He wasn't in a state to be thinking too hard about the meanings of things, and he couldn't drink to make the swirling thoughts easier to deal with.  
  
After dressing, he finally took it upon himself to take the cold medicine he'd bought with Reisi the passed day, preparing to claim it's foul taste as the perpetrator in regards to the scowl he wore. The bathroom was the next stop. All of the necessities were take care of. He took a leak, washed his face, ruffled his flattened hair a bit, then paused. The only toothbrush present was Reisi's. It wasn't a surprise, really, just inconvenient. If he borrowed the toothbrush with or without asking, he'd still spread his illness, so he squeezed toothpaste onto his finger instead. It would have to do. His nose was running more than the sink, and Reisi's tissue supply was nearly depleted, but Mikoto emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, and feeling a little refreshed. If he was still coming back to Reisi's place after the doctor's verdict, he made a mental note to pester Reisi to let him use his bath. The pockets of the borrowed hoodie were soft, probably well laundered, and really nice to shove his fists into on the journey back to the couch. He sunk back into the cushions wishing he could smoke, but he knew not to dare attempt it. Reisi would surely take the cigarette away, essentially making it a waste. The itch didn't go away when Reisi came back into the room, sleeves pushed up and soap on the corner of his glasses.  
  
“Are you ready?” He asked in that irritatingly business-like tone.  
  
“The better question is, Are you?” Mikoto asked, pointing at his eyes to draw attention to the glasses. Reisi didn't seem to get it, so Mikoto heaved a sigh. He left to couch and crossed the room. He took advantage of catching Reisi off-guard and plucked the glasses from his face. Wiping them on his shirt would have probably been too crude an act had the shirt been his own, but he was sure Reisi wasn't about to go and say his own shirt was dirty. Something about the childish pout on his face hinted that he wanted to, though. Mikoto smiled, placing them back on the bridge of Reisi's nose with all the grace someone who did not wear glasses could muster. Which is to say very little. He nearly poked the dark haired man in the eye at least once.  
  
“There.” His grin reached his scratchy tone.  
  
“You shouldn't waste your strength on such a foolish act.” Reisi was still pouting.  
  
“You should learn how to say thank you.” Mikoto gave him some teeth with his grin.  
  
“I hate you.”  
  
“Nah, You don't hate me. You can't do all this and claim you hate me.”  
Reisi's following silence was a well earned victory. Mikoto could see him fuming to hide the fluster his calm kingly aura had become. He couldn't help but snicker under his breath when Reisi grabbed his wrist and began trying to put a coat on him.  
  
“Let's just get you to the doctor.”  
  
“Lead the way, Munakata.” Oh how he loved to dig under the professional mask Reisi insisted on purporting at every possible moment. The more human the reaction, the more he loved it. Until he started thinking. For once he was glad for the sickness, because it filled his head too much to allow him to think too much. He was focused on the task of bundling up, then following behind Reisi as he led them downstairs and out into the cold air. He did happen to notice that Reisi was leaving the house without fussing over his appearance though. The clothes he wore now were the same clothes Mikoto had seen him wear yesterday at the convenience store. He found himself thinking that perhaps Reisi was capable of prioritizing his own personal concerns at times. That thought, however, became a problem. That meant the he personally prioritized caring about Mikoto, and that he really truly did care about him, even more than appearing his perfect image of how a king should look. It was unnerving. Thinking like that lead to thinking deeper about their relationship to one another, and Mikoto was walking away from that road before he even crossed it. He turned his focus instead to how much colder he was today than he normally was outside in the winter, and how the congestion in his head made everything feel a bit like it was underwater. Focusing on the physical was easier, though he did end up losing steam on their quiet walk to visit the doctor. When they entered the waiting room, it was Reisi who spoke to the person behind the desk and Reisi would took the paperwork to fill out. Mikoto tried to help, since it was his own personal information, but he was too tired. He dozed off on Reisi's shoulder sitting in and uncomfortably stiff position in the waiting room chairs, snoring quietly. Reisi was left to take stabs at Mikoto's medical history on his own. He considered himself lucky to have an extensive file on just about every person affected by the slate living in Shizume city. Mikoto's family history was unknown from the file, but he was able to notate on the form that Mikoto had already had the chicken pox at age nine, and that he was 185 centimeters tall, identical in height to himself. He of course knew that Mikoto had frequent injuries that went untreated by medical professionals, being that he was the one who often dealt them, and he was also well aware that Mikoto was something of a chainsmoker. Whatever applied, he wrote down in his artful handwriting, avoiding the glances of the deskworker who was no doubt questioning why Mikoto was not filling the papers out himself. Being that they were not family, Reisi doubted he'd be permitted to accompany Mikoto to see the doctor, but maybe his position as his physical support would at least get him close enough to the doctor to voice his own personal concerns before he was kicked out. He didn't trust Mikoto to be thorough in his explanations of his condition.  
Soon enough, The name Suoh Mikoto was called, and Mikoto woke to an arm sliding under his to wrap around his side. He let out a groan and tried to nestle his face back into Reisi's shoulder, but what had been a comfortable and warm support was now rigid and bumping his cheek to prevent the action.  
  
“That's your call, Mikoto.”  
  
“Fuck it.” He grumbled, momentarily unaware of where he was.  
  
“You have to go see the doctor.”  
  
“Nnnng” Leave it to Reisi to instantly remind him of why a miserably sterile scent was invading his headspace, completely ignoring his stunted sense of smell. “Don't wanna”  
He stubbornly wanted to go back to sleep.  
  
“Oh?” Reisi was chuckling for whatever unknown reason, “Do you want me to carry you there kicking and screaming like a child?”  
  
“No.” He closed his eyes and shoved his face against Reisi's shoulder a with a bit more intent than he previously had.  
  
“You're actions say yes.” Reisi was grinning. Mikoto just knew he was. He didn't need to look. He could hear it in his voice and feel it in the way Reisi was slowly bending to slide his other arm under his knees. Without considering the public audience, Mikoto bit down on Reisi's shoulder, causing his headrest to jump back in surprise. It was Mikoto's turn to grin back, sleepily, with victory once more.  
  
“I said no” But now he had to get up and go. He didn't really win this little argument, it was more of a tie. “you can help me walk though.” Reisi was still in a state of disarray, clamping his hand over the spot on his shoulder that was assaulted. He looked as if he was about to tell Mikoto off and leave, but deflated instead.  
  
“I suppose that's a fair alternative.” He sighed.  
  
“Just joking--” The way Reisi wouldn't meet his eyes suddenly was a little disquieting. “You're not honestly mad are you?” He figured that he could walk himself there if Reisi didn't want to help. The blue king shook his head to gesture a “no” but didn't voice it. Mikoto wasn't sure what was going on his head. He probably didn't want to know. A supportive arm pulled around his waist in spite of Reisi's taciturn dejected behavior.  
  
“I'm fine. I can walk, but....” He breathed a sigh. “Thanks.” A simple thanks seemed to lighten up Reisi's mood, but something was still bothering him. Body language made that much evident. They walked down a long hallway with multiple doors, following the person from behind the front desk, to a room at the far end of the hall. It was a bright white, uncomfortable on the eyes of someone who just woke from a nap, and the table in the corner for patients looked all too clean and polished. This sort of setting, such a picture perfect place, this was the sort of thing that made Mikoto uncomfortable. It wasn't of his world, it was foreign, and he was glad Reisi was with him to greet the nurse with a pleasant smile and put on a perfected air of confidence. Reisi seemed to be eyeing him apprehensively, though, like he was waiting for something. Mikoto couldn't fathom what. He just eyed him back trying to communicate that he didn't really like this, and that he wanted to walk out before things got messy with strangers putting their hands all over him and talking down to him.  
Miraculously, Munakata Reisi, who never seemed to be very good at reacting to social cues, seemed to get his. He helped Mikoto up onto the table and stood beside him as a calming reminder that someone he knew was with him, someone who was used to the prim and proper setting. Someone who could talk and articulate facts with accurate precision was standing to his right with a hand on his thigh. It was a bracing hand. The amount to which he was being held down was equal to the amount of comfort he drew from the hand.  
  
“Hello Suoh-san, I hear you haven't been feeling well lately.” The nurse attempted small talk. Mikoto snorted. Obviously. Or he wouldn't have come in the first place.  
  
“Yeah.” He bit with a bit too much sarcasm.  
  
“I see,” Of course the nurse faltered a bit, everyone did when Mikoto offered a sharp reply. “If it's not too much trouble, can you relay what your symptoms are and when they started?” She seemed to be running the usual script. A practiced art, a perfect flow, he didn't really like it. Being sick wasn't putting him in the best mood, either.  
  
“Coughing. Throat feels like fire-” Reisi's lip twitched when he said fire, “-Foggy head.” Mikoto shrugged. “I puked in his sink.” He jabbed a thumb lazily in Reisi's direction and yawned. A deep cough followed that he tried to suppress and the nurse looked at him with disdain. Probably for not wearing a face mask. “That's it. Dunno when it started.” The nurse was writing, but seemed to want more. Reisi cleared his throat and made eye contact with Mikoto, for what reasons, Mikoto didn't know. Then Reisi interjected the silence with a mouthful,  
  
“Since I encountered him yesterday, I've noticed an incredibly debilitating fatigue taking over his mannerisms. Do not let his lazy demeanor fool you. He was already running a high fever when I took him home with me and he has been since. His coughing is wet, and he's been breathless. Mikoto's body temperature is usually quite high, but he's developed the chills. I cannot say when the symptoms began, and the only person who saw him before I did is out of the country right now, but it's safe to say he's probably felt lousy for a few days.” Reisi began talking by directing his eye contact to the nurse, but now his eyes had fallen on Mikoto's with an intensity. “Is that all correct?”  
  
“Uh....” He felt small under that stare, like a child who had acted out. “....yeah... 'Felt shitty the day Izumo and I had a few drinks and the day before that too.” He shrugged, trying to soften the sudden tension. “Didn't think much of it....”  
  
“Thought so.” Reisi's fingers tightened their hold on his leg for a moment and then relaxed, his eyes were back on the nurse. She was still writing everything Reisi had told her, then she looked up, addressing Reisi now.  
  
“I'm going to take his temperature and blood pressure before the doctor comes in to give her formal evaluation.” She moved towards Mikoto with a thermometer. He frowned. Reisi took charge and became his 'parent' of sorts and he didn't like it. If Reisi was going to paint him as a child, he would spitefully play along. When the thermometer was set up and placed to his ear, Mikoto yawned on purpose. Reisi seemed to already know what was going to happen. Mikoto's response was a dangerous glimmer of the eyes. Because of his fidgeting, the nurse struggled to get an accurate read on Mikoto's temperature multiple times. When she finally succeeded, she looked as though she had something unsavory to say. It was a look he'd seen Reisi wear a billion times, and one he could easily give a lethargic smirk to. The look wasn't shy of his caretaker's face either. A lazy smirk seemed like it was indeed the perfect response. The nurse continued to struggle with all of her tasks as a result of Mikoto's continued noncompliance. Fooling around may have been a waste of what little energy he had, but it had a wonderfully soothing effect on the discomfort brought on by being in a doctor's office. A bit of pandemonium never failed to lighten the mood. The nurse began scratching things down on a clipboard after finishing and announced that the doctor would be present shortly. Her exit from the room was swift. If she was embarrassed, Mikoto didn't notice. Reisi, however, did. He shot Mikoto one of his dirtier looks in the nurse's absence.  
  
“You could have behaved.” An adjustment of his glasses was always a clear sign of some emotion going on beneath Reisi's calm surface. “It would have made this far simpler.”  
  
“Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda. Whatever.” Mikoto's answering smirk earned his thigh a tight squeeze from the ever-present hand Reisi had placed on it.  
  
“Your behavior here is not reflecting well on your character.”  
  
“And your behavior is annoying.” Mikoto flopped back against the table, coughing into the sweatshirt he was borrowing.  
  
“Acting out isn't helping the doctors get an accurate idea of what you might be sick with. We didn't come here first thing in the morning to waste their time, Mikoto. Please consider letting the doctor that comes to see you next help you.”  
  
“Consider just saying you're concerned about me then.” Whenever Reisi went off on a tangent, Mikoto couldn't help but roll his eyes and wish Reisi would just straight to the point.  
  
“You're unbelievable.” Refusing to let Mikoto be the right one, Reisi removed his hand from Mikoto's thigh and crossed his arms.  
  
“Heh, but you are concerned. Your reaction proves it.”  
  
“I don't see anything funny about this. Perhaps if you have the energy to utilize your crude humor, you do not need me to look after you.”  
  
“.....” What a terrible reaction that had been. Should have known, Mikoto thought to himself. He should have known that Reisi was going to eventually start getting stiff. He sighed. “Sorry.” apologizing was the best way to deflect the situation. Even if Reisi saw through it's conveniency. “I didn't grow up going to the doctor.” He admitted as a truce offering. “I'll be good..... whatever that means.” He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly with a rattle in his chest. Reisi didn't say anything in reply, but his silence was peppered with a consoling glint in his eye. One that Mikoto didn't dare to look at too long, cracking his eyes open just long enough to know the glint existed.  
They remained in silence, only split by the dull thud of Reisi's shoes against the linoleum tiles as he made his way around to be closer to Mikoto's head and the intermittent coughing that Mikoto couldn't suppress. The sudden fingers brushing hair from his forehead came as a surprise, but a pleasant one. The action was bold in it's subtlety. It spoke louder and in many more words than Mikoto wanted to think of. It was better to focus on the comfort they brought more than it was on the why, because the reasons why the action was comforting put a spinning feeling in his skull that made him feel a bit like he was going to vomit again.  
  
“I really do feel like shit.” He sighed, suddenly exhausted from all the activity,  
  
“I know you do.” Reisi seemed to sigh too, as if he'd give anything to relieve Mikoto of his fever. Being that he'd given up not just one, but now two days of his time, he had certainly given a lot as things were. It was a miracle that Reisi didn't have any disdainful remarks to make. Sinking into the calm that Reisi was able to create by gently raking his fingers through Mikoto's mane of hair didn't feel like such a bad idea at the moment. Honest surprise came from the lack of complaint at how greasy his hair must have been. He wished he'd had longer to revel in the comfort before the doctor had come, but luck really hadn't favored him much the past few days. The door handle made a metallic click as it was pressed down, the shuffling of fabric and papers followed. With the clearing of a throat, the doctor announced their presence.  
  
“Suoh Mikoto-san, am I correct?”  
Mikoto gave a cough and a grunt of acknowledgement.  
  
“You can just call me Doctor.” Someone must've alerted the man ahead of time that Mikoto wasn't really in the mood to deal with extra formalities and names. He sort of liked the guy for being simple, still, he didn't want to lift his head and risk interrupting Reisi's head petting. It would be a waste of the blue king's kindness. And by kindness, he meant simple and enjoyable silence. He gave a small wave instead, merely raising his hand in acknowledgement and lowered the gesture back against his stomach. “And who is this with you?”  
  
“Munakata Reisi.” That much he answered. His rasp of a voice barely allowed him to drawl out the syllables of Reisi's name in his usual manner of intonation, but it was close enough. He wasn't going to bother forcing it. Instead, relaxing while Reisi introduced himself properly was the more favorable option. Once formalities were exchanged, he doctor didn't waste any time in explaining the procedures that he would be using to begin the examination, nor did he hesitate to inform Mikoto that he was going to get to work. A shiver ran down Mikoto's spine when the cold metal of the stethoscope made contact with the skin of his chest. The doctor's hands were cold and very much a contrast to the hand Reisi was petting his head with. The doctor instructed him to breathe in and out, then to do so again and again. He was also made to sit up, a dizzying action that resulted in leaning against Reisi instead of laying near him. With each deep breath he had to take, something unpleasant rattled in his lungs. The rattling was beyond unpleasant, even without the coughing that followed it. Being asked to cough wasn't a difficult task to complete. Coughing had already naturally become his reaction to deep breaths. The doctor listened closely and then continued. Mikoto's back was listened to, then the front of his chest again. His blood pressure was fine. Between questions, his throat was swabbed and looked at under a light, as were his ears and nose. After reviewing the symptoms the nurse had recorded and what he had observed first hand, the doctor took Mikoto from the room for a moment to get a chest x-ray done, much to his chagrin. The machine's beeping was annoying and the gown he had to change into to get the imaging done was far too drafty. He ambled back to sit close to Reisi with a chill he hoped to kill by leeching body heat.  
  
“It looks a lot like you've contracted Pneumonia.” The doctor began, making eye contact- and Mikoto was glad the man never gave his name because he'd already have forgotten it, “Once the x-rays develop and I look at the samples that were taken, we'll know to what extent and what type you have.”  
  
“Extent?” He chuckled weakly, “Doctor, I'm pretty damn sick.”  
  
“That is certainly true.” The doctor chuckled as well, Mikoto decided he liked him enough. “Do you have someone who will look after you? You'll be needing a lot of rest,  
fluids, and to refrain from smoking. Given your current state, you shouldn't be alone.” Mikoto looked to Reisi, who adjusted his glasses and looked straight on ahead.  
  
“I'll be the one to look after him.” A verbal election was given on Reisi's behalf.  
  
“You sure?” The blue king had time to spare on a barbarian like himself? Mikoto was not only taken aback by Reisi's lack of excuses as to why he would not be able to look after him for a few days, but impressed that he came before Reisi's work.  
  
“Even if I was not, I've already decided to do it. I cannot turn away from you now.”  
  
“Heh. Formal as ever. Should've known.” But Mikoto wanted to know why the sudden change came about. It was eerie, and vaguely irritating beneath being a warm and welcomed gesture. “Is it because your cause is just?”  
  
“No, this is a personal matter.” Reisi managed to surprise Mikoto even more, “I'm electing myself caretaker on my own accord.” Mikoto's jaw might've dropped. It was a strong possibility. “I fully accept the consequences of my actions in my work life.” Reisi talked so much, but said so little of his full intentions. Mikoto chuckled in response. He supposed that was as close as he would get to Reisi admitting publicly that he cared about his well-being.  
  
“I'd challenge you on that if I wanted to get a mouthful of a response.” His voice grated against his throat, like salt rubbing in a wound.  
  
“Count yourself lucky I'm not lecturing you for wasting your voice then and take it easy. I have no ulterior motive.”  
  
“And?” Since Reisi was already prattling on, raising a brow and asking for him to finish his thought wasn't too much of an inconvenience.  
  
“And I care about your health.” The pout was so evident in his voice that Mikoto closed his eyes and soaked in the rays of victory that shone from it. “That's why I'm doing it.” Music to his ears.  
The doctor, now satisfied that someone would be caring for Mikoto whil he recovered, exused himself to go look over the results of the tests. Mikoto and Reisi were left to their own devices for no longer than thirty minutes and left with a prescription in hand. The diagnosis was indeed pneumonia, and Mikoto was ordered to rest with Reisi for a week before returning for another x-ray before he could be given a clean bill of health.  
Mikoto had assumed they would walk home, but was surprised by a scepter four vehicle waiting outside to take the pair home. It wasn't like he needed to be driven back to Reisi's apartment, but he certainly wasn't going to turn the easy way out down. The pockets of the hooded sweatshirt he was borrowing were excellent places to shove his hands since he wasn't allowed to smoke.  
Smoking was a great occupier. Of both his mouth and hands.  
Now he found himself sitting beside Reisi in a nice government transportation vehicle with nothing to do with either, and far too much time to think once again. All of the kindness and gentle gestures were swimming in his head, making it hard to think clearly. He tried his best to distract himself with the window, or a nap, but he failed at both.  
Humming responses to Reisi while the blue king complained about paperwork, damages done to the city by unruly strains, and voiced disdain towards certain habits of Mikoto's wasn't enough of a distraction.  
If he stayed with Reisi for a full week, some kind of difficult conversation was going to have to happen. Mikoto just hoped he would be well enough to carry it out to Reisi's high expectations.  
  
As the car rounded the last corner on the ride home, Mikoto began to brace himself for that reality. He couldn't escape what was coming. Now all that remained was the question of when the conversation would happen, how it would come about, and how long Mikoto figured he could keep his frustration down while he waited for the topic to breech.  
  
What were they, when this was all said and done. Friends? Rivals? Both? Something else.  
_Damn_ , He clutched his head, _was this week going to be a migraine_.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but as I was writing it came to my attention that it began to become rather long. I'm the type of person who likes to read things in chunks for comprehension purposes, so I figured this was the best way to post it! There will be roughly 1-4 parts depending on which scenes I chose to flesh out from my initial plan. As it stands, this isn't even half of what it already written. 
> 
> Usually I write from Reisi's perspective! So it's been fun to recently take a shot at Mikoto's. I hope everyone enjoys.


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